Steve Rogers, Domestic Man of Mystery
by Papergirl
Summary: It's hardly been four hours and Tony is already going sir-crazy. Mostly, it's from being bedridden. But even more mostly, it's from his roommate. (Steve/Tony friendship)


It's hardly been four hours and Tony is already going sir-crazy. Mostly, it's from being bedridden. But even more mostly, it's from his roommate.

"Nurse!" Tony calls, but they've long ago stopped listening to him. "Nurse! Please make him stop!"

In the next bed, Steve chuckles at the television bracketed to the wall between their two beds. He turns up the volume to drown out Tony's pleas.

"Captain, you're killing me," Tony complains, futilely using his one non-IV'd hand to try to cover his ears with his pillow. He stares forlornly at the casts on both of his legs, wishing, not for the first time, that they were on his head instead.

Oblivious, Steve continues laughing at the screen.

"Don't think I won't remember this!" he stabs furiously at the call button as he continues to yell at the nonexistent nurses. "What's the point of the best health insurance money can buy if they just ignore you anyway?"

"Hey," Steve says suddenly, leaning over and pulling back the curtain enough so he can see Stark. "Have you seen this documentary before? It's really good."

Tony scowls, shifting. "It's not a documentary."

"Are you sure?" Steve asks, glancing between the screen and the other bed's occupant. "From what I can tell, it's pretty accurate. Funny, too."

"It's not a documentary, Cap."

"But-"

"I'm absolutely certain Austin Powers is a comedy." Tony growls, and he sounds a smidgen more pissed off than he intends.

Steve picks up on the less-than-subtle clue to Tony's feelings, turns down the TV a little, and lets the curtain fall back to obscure their view of each other. Tony instantly feels bad. Sure, it's fun to ruffle his feathers, but every time he actually hurts Steve's feelings, it's a bit like kicking a puppy.

Tony reaches out and throws the curtain back far enough that he can see his subdued roommate scratching at the gauze on his head.

"You can turn it back up," Tony tells him quietly after a moment. He expects Steve to protest, to acknowledge that he'd been blasting the television for four hours and it was all drivel, and that Tony could have the remote control now. Instead, Steve cranks the volume.

They've been introducing pop culture to the former Capsicle in small doses. Usually, it's in the form of a movie night every few weeks, a reward of sorts for surviving the latest battle or stack of SHIELD paperwork. They have to take it in small doses, ration it out, because the week that Bruce introduced Steve to the world of Netflix, they weren't sure they'd ever see him again.

But Tony understands it. Movies are more than entertainment to Steve, they're something familiar in a scarily modern foreign world. They're a link to his former self, to his past life. Besides, who doesn't love watching someone as enthusiastic as Captain America watch the original Star Wars trilogy for the first time?

Still, this Austin Powers crap was getting ridiculous. Steve had stumbled upon a TBS marathon of all of the movies, and Tony felt they were overplayed the first time he saw them.

For a comedy, though, Steve is certainly no longer laughing.

Tony cranes his neck to the screen. It's the scene where Austin tries to play a CD on a record player.

Steve winces at the loud scratching noise, and Tony winces a little as well. Yes, the scene was funny in the heyday of 1997, when "Groovy, baby" and "Shagadelic" had yet to become overused catchphrases, but now it serves as a cruel parallel to the Captain's own journey.

Austin was frozen for only 30 years; Steve more than doubled that.

"All right," Steve announces cheerfully, although the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and his voice is devoid of its usual sparkle. He tosses the remote and it lands with a bounce on Tony's stomach. "Your turn."

"_Thank_ you," Tony gushes, already navigating through the channels. There had to be something better on somewhere. Two complete cycles of the hospital's limited channel selection later, and Tony sighs as he shuts off the TV.

They sit in the quiet for a moment, the only sounds those emitted from their various beeping machines. Steve looks over at him.

"How're your legs feeling?" he asks, the guilt hardly masked in his voice.

"Never better!" Tony replies glibly, then realizes Steve doesn't understand. "No, seriously, never better. They have me drugged up so much I can't feel a thing."

"Ahh," Steve nods, looking relieved. "And the doctors said you'll heal in no time, right?"

"Right." Tony tries to turn sideways to face Steve, almost choking himself on his IV in the process. He lies back down and turns his head instead. "You do know this isn't your fault."

Steve shrugs sheepishly. "I was the one who-"

"Who saved my life, remember? Better those guys broke my legs than my skull."

Deep down, Steve knows it, but it's hard to accept.

"Guess what, Captain. As much as you're a freak, you're still human, which means you're not perfect," Tony lets that sink in for a moment before continuing, "I, on the other hand, am available to tutor you in perfection lessons."

Steve laughs, genuinely, and Tony's relieved.

"That'll be the day, Stark."

A nurse walks in, carrying a food tray.

"About time!" Tony barks, only half-joking.

"Captain Rogers, what are you still doing here?" she asks as she places the tray on Tony's table. "We discharged you hours ago."

Tony throws a look at Steve, pretty sure he can feel his own jaw actually hanging open.

"You were discharged?" He asks, eyebrows high with incredulity. "Didn't you break your leg, too? And what about that nasty gash on your head?"

Steve blushes a patriotic red. "I, uh, healed so, I, I asked and they said I could stay and, uh, you know, keep an eye on you."

"Jesus, Rogers," Tony turns to the nurse checking his vitals. "I think our Star Spangled Man needs a CAT scan," he tells her, nodding towards Steve, who was now sitting up in the bed facing him.

"There's nothing wrong with my head."

"Well…"

"I just… I needed to be here, okay? Can we leave it at that?"

Tony is about to reply when he realizes that the nurse has given him more medicine.

"Listen, Cap, I'm pretty sure I'm about to lapse into a coma. So, uh, you can go. I'm fine. Honestly."

Steve hesitates, glancing at the nurse for confirmation.

"Captain Rogers, he really is fine."

Tony's eyes are already closed. "Would you go already?" Tony sighs. "I'm in my happy place, and I'm supposed to be alone."

"I'll come check on you tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan, Star Spangled Man," Tony murmurs, giggling slightly. "Star Spangled Maaaaan with a plaaaaan," he sings.

"Feel better," Steve says from the doorway with a little wave.

"Already do!" Tony laughs, and Steve finds himself chuckling all the way down the hall.


End file.
